Madness
This hurts,
Watching her cry,
Asking for her forgiveness,
Calming afterwards,
Whilst wishing to poke my eyes and gouge that of my neighbor’s just to calm my raging sprout.
This is maddening,
Realizing your grip is weakening,
Waking up everyday, the pain deepening,
Sunken luck and smiles sinking in,
Not sure if you’re sane or not,
If your mind is rotten or distraught,
If stabbing yourself with a knife, then twisting would suffice and end the game of life; alas, a headshot would decide, through and through a dove till it hits its mark.
This is a chainsaw cutting into sanity, insanity;
This is Alice, whirling deep into the wormhole of whirlpools, a black-hole of emotional distress, apathy is a star long gone in the fraught of my galaxy’s regrets.
This silence…the pivot point,
A fictitious story-line of “I know, I know"
On the unhinged gates of calamity and its rusted joints.
This levity…in the face of dreadful things,
A sense of awe from the mundane,
A wooden bark, teetering, yet tethered with the insane;
This is what remains when ones' domain contains all the pains of yesterday’s reign…
Truth is; I am suffering by hurting those I love,
I know I am wrong,
Lest rage grabs hold of reasoning and everything dear to me and shatters all those memories of what we used to be.
This is me…at the expense of us, a process as to digress,
To avoid being called out, to confess.
To say sorry from my depths,
To advertise weakness by being intense.
